


strange love

by cersc



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Arranged Marriage, Biting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble Collection, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Fucking, House Party, Jealousy, Licking, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Love Bites, Love Confessions, Making Love, Naked Cuddling, Not Wearing Underwear, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Graduation, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in Someone Else's House, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Sleep talking, Talking in sleep, Teasing, Teenagers, Twincest, Watching Someone Sleep, Woman on Top, waking up together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cersc/pseuds/cersc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Cersei/Jaime drabbles written mostly for Tumblr prompts. Mostly smut. Sexy, sexy smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and how you gripped my hips so mean

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt for this one was "we’ve been frustrating each other for hours bc people were around but now we’re alone sex". enjoy!

Frankly, Cersei doubts Tywin wants to host this family dinner. It matters little that he has not seen either of his college-bound twins since they began their university careers a year ago; there was no warmth in his eyes when he welcomed them home from the airport, and there is no warmth in his eyes now, as they dine on filet mignon and fluffy, truffle-infused mashed potatoes.

Not that she doesn’t have her own ways to entertain herself.

It starts innocently enough, as all things do: feet brushing calves under the table, all-too-sweet smiles as she licks her spoon clean whilst keeping gaze locked firmly upon her twin’s ‘cross the table. Soon, her foot is in Jaime's lap, caressing the growing bulge in his pants; the looks she shoots his way are positively dripping with lust. And all the while, they must endure Father’s dry conversation and Tyrion’s crude japes.

Luckily, the dinner was a late one; unluckily, still some hours must pass before father and brother retreat to their chambers on the opposite side of the Casterly estate from Cersei’s own room. She passes the time by painting her nails a vampy shade of crimson, bathing in lavender oil-infused water, and choosing just the right lingerie ( sheer black lace, barely covering enough to be called a garment in true, and matching panties ). Lounges on her bed reading a mystery novel and, as the clock strikes midnight, waits for the inevitable.

The inevitable comes in the form of a door thrown open, then closed quietly, attracting no attention; it comes in the form of her brother picking up her book and tossing it aside without even letting her mark her place. “You–” he begins, pointing an accusing finger, yet knowing not else what to say.

Cersei only smiles. Lifts her silken nightgown o’er her head and gestures over the body revealed beneath. “Yes. Me.”

And then he is on top of her, weight pinning her to the mattress; she threads fingers through his hair and grips tight as his mouth moves from her own to her neck to shoulder, where he bites hard enough to leave a mark. She cannot be too loud, but a sigh of pleasure escapes her all the same as she tugs at his hair, his shirt ( it comes off easily, though they are both loathe to part body from body long enough to let it happen ), his boxers. As desperate as he is, really; as their bodies undulate and writhe together, a damp spot appears on the gusset of her panties, and she grinds against him the same way he does her.

Jaime wastes no time teasing her body through its meager garments; the bra comes off, then the panties, then his lips and teeth are on her nipple as fingers move ‘tween her thighs. She groans into his shoulder, then leaves a love bite to rival her own as he strokes ‘tween her slick pink folds, bringing her hips to roll against him, hungry for more.

He settles back to remove his boxers, and Cersei’s legs spread o’er the velvet-soft bedspread. “You want to fuck me?” she teases, leaning over to stroke his cock far too gently, far too soft. “Then come here and fuck me.”

And he does. Seconds later, he’s inside her, satisfied groans spilling from both their mouths as he fills her up; he sets a punishing pace from the beginning, but Cersei does not mind, would not have it any other way. With him inside her, she feels whole; when he fucks her like this, hard and fast and unapologetic, she feels good.

Ruts hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, hands greedy for his body: shoulders, chest, hips. Fresh-manicured fingernails leave marks on his back. Soon, his pants and moans turn to whimpers, gasps of her name, and she knows he’s close; she clenches her inner muscles ‘round him, keeping herself tight as ever, and that sends him over the edge, shuddering against her body as he spills inside her, hot and sticky and bliss. And it’s the feel of his cum inside her that sends her over the edge with a cry of his name muffled by his neck, where lips were kissing and nipping just before.

They come down together, a thin sheen of sweat keeping bodies close as breaths return to normal and heartbeats slow. When he pulls out, Cersei misses the feel of him inside her. She rolls onto her side, propped up by an elbow, and grins at him. “Next time,” she says decisively, “I’m on top.”


	2. they can't believe i made you weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt for this one was "we were trying to make sweet sweet love and then you bit me sex". because we all know teeth are one of jaime's biggest weaknesses ;) enjoy!

It has been two weeks since they have been able to steal any time away for themselves, and each night, as Cersei attempted ( and often failed ) to find slumber next to Robert’s great snoring form, it was Jaime on her mind: Jaime’s lips on her lips, his skin on her skin, his cock inside her, filling her up, making her whole.

Robert is with one of his whores tonight, and finally her fantasies are fulfilled.

Once Jaime’s chamber door is closed and barred behind her, he sweeps her into his arms like a knight might do to his maiden fair in the storybooks; when he kisses her, it’s long and sweet, his mouth tasting just faintly of the lemon cakes served after dinner. She gives a content hum as body relaxes into his, her form pressed ‘gainst his, completing him like pieces of a children’s puzzle.

He smirks down at her upon pulling away, and Cersei feels the same girlish flutter of the heart she felt in her younger years at that same look. “To bed with us,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and she cannot disagree when asked so sweetly.

He sits back upon the featherbed first, and her silken robe is discarded to the back of his desk’s chair before nightdress is hitched up ‘round thighs to allow her to straddle his lap, rolling hips gently, teasingly against his own. Already, he’s half-hard for her; she wonders if he has been thinking about this as much as she, has been stroking his cock to climax with thoughts of her each night. Eyes flutter shut as she imagines it, and she smiles.

“What?” he asks, and in response smile only grows as she kisses first his lips, then his neck — and then instinct takes over, and she nips at that sensitive place there ‘tween his neck and shoulder, that place that always makes him shudder and whimper for her.

Shudder and whimper he does, limbs suddenly jelly-like as his hands fall to her thighs and give them a wanting squeeze. “Cers,’ he breathes shakily, and she bites down upon him again, closer to his jaw this time. He moans aloud, fingers working the hem of lacy nightdress up, up, over her head, revealing bare form beneath. She can feel him stiffening beneath her, and gives another teasing little rock of the hips.

Cersei rolls off him just long enough to command, “Get yourself undressed,” one brow arched the way it might be toward one of her subject. Her twin is obedient, and she’s back on him as soon as his form is revealed to her, lips and tongue trailing down his chest. Bites down on one nipple, then the other, and Jaime whines for her, pushing his pelvis forth as if rutting against the breeches no longer on his body.

She places a hand warningly on his belly and looks deep into his eyes. “Don’t move, else I won’t reward you. Let me have my fun.”

With that, she returns to her task, mouth exploring his salt-sweet skin and the contours of his lean, toned abdomen. Reaches his hipbones and bites one hard, hard enough to leave a bruise the next day, a mark that he belongs to her and her alone; when he yelps, then lets the sound stutter off into a pleasured groan, she grins. “Oh, sweetling,” she murmurs, “how I adore you.”

“Cersei,” is all he can say in response, her name a prayer upon his lips.

She is close enough now that she imagines he can feel her hot breath upon his cock, and when tongue flicks out just enough to lick at the swollen tip of him, he moans again. “Don’t,” he manages, tugging at her hair, trying to pull her back up to his level. “I can’t — I’ve wanted you so long, I — I want to be inside you when —“

Oh, she loves it when he reaches this point: so worked up for her his words become incoherent. But she can be merciful, too; straddles him once more, hand on the base of his cock to guide him inside her as the other snakes between them to rub at the bundle of nerves between her slick pink lips.

Rides him hard, fast, unforgiving, and he writhes and squirms beneath her, giving over entirely to his body’s instincts as he bucks up into her; seeing him like this only arouses Cersei further, fingers now coated in her own juices as she lifts them to her mouth, watches intently as he sucks them clean.

It doesn’t take much longer for his seed to spill inside her, his body stilling, his cry of her name muffled as he presses his face into the valley of her lavender-perfumed breasts. “Yes, love,” she says, stroking his hair as he finishes, pants against her skin to reclaim his breath. “There you are.”

And when she dismounts him, she lets legs fall apart, savoring the feel of his seed spilling sticky onto her thighs, sliding down her arse. Jaime knows exactly what she wants. He always does; it is as if he can read her thoughts, sometimes. He kneels before her, pressing a gentle kiss to her pubic bone, and she smiles. “Good boy.”


	3. to hear if i dare speak your name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt for this one was "public sex & tryin’ to keep quiet". now, it's hard for these two to get public at ALL -- but i tried my best. ;)

The idea of the party is as sentimental as Jaime might have expected, as it’s being thrown by Catelyn Tully. It’s the end of August, the summer after their class has graduated high school, and the evening is meant to be one last celebration of their four years together before they leave for university or the military or trade jobs or whatever else the future holds for their class. 

Jaime doesn’t know what most of his former classmates will be up to after tonight. He doesn’t particularly care. In fact, the only reason he’s here is because Cersei asked him — and the only reason he answered affirmatively was because of how nicely her ruffly red sundress showed off her exposed shoulders and collarbones, still tanned from their vacation earlier in the season.

In any case, he’s got a few drinks in his system a couple hours after their arrival, and they are well-needed. First, Ned Stark talked to him for what felt like eons about the prestigious path laid out for him and asked Jaime ( rather judgmentally, Jaime felt, but since when has he cared what Ned Stark thinks?) about his own future; next, Robert Baratheon tried to bro around with him as always ( and Jaime faked a smile and rolled his eyes as soon as Robert walked away as always ); then there was the inevitable attempted and failed flirting by Catelyn’s little sister. 

When Cersei walks up to him with a smile on glossy lips, mischief dancing in pupils blown by a combination of the lights and music and dancing and booze and maybe drugs and, he’d like to think, himself, it couldn’t come any sooner. He grins and tosses an arm ‘round her shoulder, the type of brotherly hug acceptable at gatherings like this. “Having fun?”

“Could be having more,” she responds, pulling away from him — but not before letting her hand graze his ass in what could have been an accident. Looks up earnestly into his eyes and grins; she never reminds him more of a lioness than when she smiles at him this way, predatory and perky, the sort of expression that lets her prey know she’s already secured it in her claws and is simply playing with it until the time is right. “Come with me.”

“Cersei, what—“ he begins, but that grin of hers turns into a glare as she whips around from the path already begun upon. 

“Come with me,” she repeats, and no questions asked this time. After all, it’s not like anyone will notice; half the guests are already passed out drunk or close to it, and the other half are absorbed in each other, in conversations or make-out sessions or drinking contests. And Cersei knows the Tully house. For some reason ( Jaime’s never been able to figure out why ), she and Catelyn are rather close.

Cersei leads him into a spare bedroom far, far, far from where the festivities are taking place, and with each step he admires how steady she is in those five-inch heels, how sexy they make her calves look as they flex. She opens the door for him; he steps inside and watches as she locks the door and pulls the chair at the desk just inside over to bar the door as well. Draws the curtains; checks the closet and under the bed for eavesdroppers. Thoroughness has become second nature to them — it has to be, in a relationship like theirs.

Once satisfied, Cersei kicks off her shoes and perches on one corner of the bed with legs crossed at the knee and a smile all too sweet upon that leonine face. “This is one of the Tullys’ many guest rooms,” she explains. “When we were thirteen, Catelyn hosted a sleepover in here. Said it was the first time the room had been used in ages. Recently we talked about that party, and she mentioned the room hasn’t been used much since, either.” She runs a slender hand over the soft-looking quilt, gilded bracelets jingling against each other. “Poor little room. So sad; so forgotten.” Gaze moves up to Jaime’s, and this time it’s with that same predatory grin she used upon him earlier. “Shall we put it to use? Give it a purpose again?”

“Cersei,” he says, and finds his voice hoarser than he’d like. Even as he protests, he kicks his shoes off into the pile begun by her own. “What if someone comes up here?” 

She raises an eyebrow at him as hand gestures at locked and barred door, at curtains drawn to prevent suspicion from outdoors. “They’ll try the door and realize the room is taken. I mean, people were practically fucking downstairs — we’re doing poor Catelyn a courtesy by taking things somewhere private, I’d say.”

And he’s still not entirely convinced this is a good idea, but the scales have tipped in its favor — more so still when she uncrosses her legs, one over the base of the mattress and one over its side, and uses those jewel-adorned fingers to lift her dress just enough to tease, never enough to reveal.

And then he knows most certainly that this is a good idea.

Undoes his belt buckle and wrestles with the damned thing until it joins the pile of shoes on the floor, then places one hand on each of Cersei’s shoulders; she claps a hand of her own over her mouth, where elsewise she would squeal and giggle ( he sees it in her eyes, that giddy glimmer). Moves one hand ‘tween her legs with the intent of stroking her through her panties until she’s wet —

— finds her bare instead, and rests his forehead against her own and groans. “Fuck,” he half-whispers as fingers part slick wet folds, rub circles ‘round her clit, leave her writhing ( still with that hand over her mouth, else she’d be moaning and gasping, too ) beneath him.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” he asks — she wouldn’t be this aroused yet if the idea were a spur of the moment one.

Cersei shrugs and parts fingers just enough to say “Since I asked you to come with me to this party.”

Knowing that she’s been thinking about it this long sends a rush of blood to his cock, and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, releasing some of the strain on it; returns to his spot over her body, her legs wrapped around him, bringing his hips to grind against her even if that hadn’t been his initial intent ( and it was, oh, it certainly was ). He kisses her mouth long and hard, and the purpose is double: first, to keep his sweet, loud sister quiet; second; because he just wants to kiss her.

For a moment or two they remain like that, all wrapped up in each other — ivory limbs entangled, golden hair growing messy as fingers tangle with it, clothing rumpled and smelling of sweat and sex — and then Cersei tugs his boxer-briefs down along with his jeans, running her thumb over the tip of his cock and licking clean the liquid dripping from him, and then she looks at him and grins and

— fuck, then he’s inside her, and the heightened chance of getting caught in a stranger’s house somehow makes it feel better than ever before. The moan that wants to escape his lips gets strangled somewhere in his throat as he remembers they aren’t supposed to be making noise, and Cersei chuckles, reaches up to draw his head down to hers again and kiss him long and sweet, pulling away with a bite to his bottom lip. “I love you,” she mouths silently as her hips roll against his own, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“I love you, too.” He mouths it the same way.

And before long his senses are all overtaken by his climax, heat and ecstasy moving from his cock toward every other nerve ending in his body; his head falls into the crook between Cersei’s neck and shoulder as he comes down. Doesn’t pull out of her just yet, though; two of his fingers move between them to rub the bundle of nerves between her thighs with his cock still in her so that when she comes, she still has that full feeling, that sensation of wholeness. Watching her face — eyes fluttered shut, lips parted slightly, long line of neck exposed as head tilts back — Jaime thinks he might never have seen anything more beautiful in his lifetime.

For a long while, they linger together. Cersei is first to get up, strapping her heels back on. 

“What now?” asks Jaime, sitting up, running a hand through his hair, still trying to catch his breath.

She smiles. “Oh, love. Now we fix ourselves up and go downstairs and arouse no suspicion at all. I know you’re new to this, but I’ve had more than a few solo romps at parties like these — just follow my lead.”


	4. that's the beauty of a secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three mini-drabbles for various tumblr prompts beginning with "things you said when...". all set pre-book canon. enjoy!

**things you said when you were jealous**

         The mere thought is enough to raise bile in Cersei’s throat. She watches Jaime, blissful in his ignorance, from across the table, eating his dinner and drinking his ale as if naught is wrong -- for he _knows_  naught about Father’s plan, naught about the marriage being arranged for him. She cannot help but imagine the ceremony: Lysa Tully, always the _uglier_ of the Tully sisters, grinning ear to ear as she walks down the aisle, glad to have been betrothed to a man who deserves so much _better_. And Jaime, trying his best to accept her with grace, though Cersei suspects he’d be as miserable as she. Taking her under the Lannister bridal cloak, the same one _Mother_ wore –

         “Seven Hells,” Cersei mutters, pushing her plate away. “I am no longer hungry. Jaime, I cannot keep this from you any longer – did you know Father wants you wed to Lysa Tully?” Danger flashes in her eyes as she lifts her own wineglass, idly swirling the liquid within, unable to decide if it looks appetizing or not. “I _won’t_ let it happen.”

 

**things you said in your sleep**

         Cersei knew Jaime was meant to return in the morn. She knew not how  _early_  he was meant to return, though, and thus made no arrangements with her maids to wake her, for surely rising with the dawning sun would give her enough time to dress and prepare for his arrival?

         She’d been _wrong_ , though she did not know it. His host made good enough time that they arrived at the Red Keep before the sun’s rising, and Cersei was still deep in the haze of dreams most pleasant when her sweet twin snuck into her chambers. Nor did _he_ make any move to wake her, not at first. As she clutched a down pillow to her chest **(** in her dreams, it was  _him_ **)**  and buried deeper into the blankets and furs ‘round her, she was silently observed for a time.

         “Won’t marry you,” she murmurs to the nameless, faceless suitor in her hazy dream. “Brother’s coming back soon…he’ll have your head.” And in her sleep, she _smiles_ , half because here she is untouchable – half because it’s true, Jaime will be back as soon as she opens her eyes.

 

** things you said when we were the happiest we've ever been **

         As she looks down o’er their bodies, Cersei can barely tell where one twin ends and the other begins. ‘Tis only the newfound thicker hairs on Jaime’s legs and arms and tone of his muscle that differentiates his ivory limbs from her own – that, and her own curves, her own soft suppleness that came in since he last saw her in place of knobby knees and skinny elbows. He left for Crakehall when they were eleven; they are _older_ now, he a knight, she a lovely lady, and the kisses they share now are far from those once innocently explored in secret.

         Last night, they did _more_ than kiss. Cersei still feels the ache between her thighs where he entered her, where he thrust into her, where she rode him into pleasure previously unknown. She cannot tell if the ache is from his ministrations or her own desire for _more_ ; either way, ‘tis a pleasant one, one she hopes ne’er to forget. And the feel of lying here, skin on skin in a soft featherbed, is one she’d kill to be able to experience more often.

         “I love you,” says she, the words familiar and foreign all at once. She has always loved her brother, her best friend, her confidant; loving her _lover_  is new. “I love you, Jaime. And now that you’re here, I intend never to let you go again.”


End file.
